


Stuck In Reverse

by cloneclubbingcreampuff



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloneclubbingcreampuff/pseuds/cloneclubbingcreampuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Shaw goes rogue with one of their numbers, Root finally admits that the game she's been playing with the other woman isn't a game for her at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck In Reverse

The Machine started playing Coldplay's _Fix You_ in Root's ear as she walked to her apartment, and she wished that the knowledge that the Machine was still with her was more comforting. Root just felt empty and used. She huffed as the cold nipped at her, and pulled her jacket tighter around herself. She was horrified to find that she was crying, actually _crying_ , because of what had happened earlier that evening. Shaw had gone to the man's hotel room, the thief whom Root already hated with a burning passion.

It was her own fault. She should have never believed that she could connect to another person. Machines were safer, easier to understand. Code and computers were what Root comprehended best. She was a fool to think that Shaw was different, that she could be relied on, that maybe she felt the same way Root did. Root was tired of waiting for something that seemed so far away. She was just...tired. Tired of shedding her skin every few days, tired of fighting. When she'd first met Shaw, she'd wondered how the other woman could always fight, tirelessly and without rest. And the flirting was just a way of messing with her, seeing how far she could push her before she did something. Anything, really.

Lately, though...Root couldn't go back to the meaningless flirting and the salacious smiles. Because it wasn't a game to her anymore. Without her even noticing, 'it' had morphed into something more tangible and real, something that sat like a ball of gum in the bottom of her stomach. And it was awful.

The song switched to _Mr. Brightside_ by the Killers, and Root laughed in spite of the tears on her face.

"Thanks," she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. It was time to get over herself. To get over Shaw.

When she got to her apartment and hung her keys by the door, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She wasn't alone, she could feel it. Pulling her gun out, she relaxed when the music blasting in her ear stopped, replaced by the Machine telling her it was only Shaw.

Shaw was here.

Why though?

"Shaw?" She called out, taking a few more steps into her apartment.

"I'm here." Root whirled as she heard the other woman's voice, husky and deep. Shaw was sitting on her couch, looking out at the New York skyline. This apartment (one that she had moved into yesterday) had enormous windows, and the light from the moon came to rest on Shaw's face.

"What--why? I thought you were with our number."

"He shook me off. Knew that I was after him. Apparently I came on too strong, and he bolted." Shaw sighed. She looked really disappointed, and Root knew why. Not because of the number, but because Shaw had hoped to have sex with him.

Root sat down, switched on the lamp that was sitting on the table by the couch. "Did you call Harold and tell him?"

"Yeah. He's having John tail him, for now."

"So....why are you here?"

Shaw fidgeted. "I just...wanted to explain."

"Explain what?" Root could feel herself get cold, the anticipation of what Shaw could say flooding her veins like icewater. She needed to stop getting her hopes up.

"I...wanted to have sex with that guy tonight," Shaw nodded, as if she knew that was Root was thinking. Eerie. "But that's all it would have been. I'm not really built for feeling things, as you know." She gave Root a look, a look that Root had never seen before.

"This isn't really what I want to hear, Sameen," Root snapped.

"I know, but you need to, okay? I don't feel anything for him."

Root stood up, walked a few paces. "I think you should go."

"No, Root--"

"Go." Root turned her back, so Shaw couldn't see the pain on her face. She heard a sigh, then footsteps, and finally, the door opened and closed, leaving Root alone again.

 

 

\----

 

Root avoided Shaw for the next month, then the next, always making sure to visit Harold's subway hideout when he was alone. The Machine helped her, even though Root could sense a little bit of reticence. To her, the Machine had a personality. She was the reason Root was trying to be a better person, and Root knew the Machine cared about her, and about Harold, Reese and Shaw. A part of her wondered if the Machine knew just how hard it was for her to stay away from Shaw. It had become such a habit, that Root felt like she was going through withdrawal.

She spent Thanksgiving tracking down a number for Harold, which kept her too occupied to focus on how alone she felt. When that was done, she made her way back to the hideout, knowing that Shaw wouldn't be there. She was currently doing a stakeout in Brooklyn. At least that's what Harold had told her, and he had no reason to lie.

When she got there, she saw Harold at his computer as usual, Bear lying on the floor next to him.

"Hello, Miss Groves," he said, without turning his head. Root thought it was interesting how he now trusted her enough to not need to face her at all times. He considered her a friend, a comrade, and Root was glad for that.

"Harold," she nodded. "I took care of that number for you."

"I hope you don't mean--"

"No. They were a victim, and I only shot the perps in the knees. You've taught me well," she smirked.

"I'm glad. Well, if that's all, then you're free to--"

A crash sounded from the other end of the tunnel, and two pairs of eyes turned towards the noise. Shaw had been struggling with a wooden crate of weapons, and when they fell to the floor, she huffed and cursed, not noticing Root or Finch. She cursed again and dragged the crate, stopping suddenly when she caught sight of Root.

Root could see a number of expressions flicker on the woman's face briefly, before she settled (predictably) on anger. "Nice of you to fucking show up, Root," she snapped, scratching her jaw with her right hand. "What's it been, two months?"

"Two and a half," Root answered. "Do you need help with that?" She gestured to the crate.

"I got it," Shaw huffed. "Wouldn't want you to keep you from whatever it is that was so important that you couldn't bother to say hello. What if you were dead?"

"I'm obviously not dead," Root replied, smirking.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harold shift uncomfortably on his chair. "Miss Shaw, may I ask where those weapons came from?"

"Our number. He was selling these illegally."

"So you brought them here?"

"Yeah. I figured we could use them." She looked at Harold with what looked suspiciously like puppy dog eyes, and Root chuckled. "We can keep them, right?"

"I suppose so. Just make sure they're not traceable."

"Duh." Shaw started unpacking the weapons, and Root figured now would be a good time to make her escape. She started walking towards the exit, hoping Shaw would be too preoccupied with her new toys to notice.

No such luck.

"So, what, you're leaving again? Guess I'll see you next year sometime, then." Shaw said, from behind her.

Root turned, her irritation rising. She needed space, didn't Shaw see that? She needed time to get over her feelings, to focus on her mission. She didn't need sentiment getting in the way of that, especially not when it involved a person whose feelings were practically non-existent.

"Shaw," she breathed. "I...I can't do this anymore."

"Do what? Be around me? Well, sorry that my very presence irks you so much. Whatever happened to 'I worry about you, Sameen?' What happened to you being an annoying angel who looks over my damn shoulder all the time? I couldn't get rid of you, and now..."

"Things have changed. It's not a game for me anymore."

"What, you pissing me off? Because I gotta say, you're winning right now."

Root grit her teeth, looked over Shaw's shoulder at Harold, whom she suspected was listening to everything they were saying. "I don't want to talk about this here," she muttered.

"Fine. Where then?"

 

\----

 

Root checked the time again and bit her lip. She'd chosen a small burger joint on 6th street, in a blind spot, of course. She didn't really want to be interrupted by Samaritan's lackeys tonight, since she wasn't even sure what she was going to say to Shaw once she showed up.

'Sorry I was gone for so long, I just needed space to clear my head' sounded way too vague. Shaw would see right through that, even if there was some truth to it. The whole truth, however, was just way too embarrassing and scary to even contemplate divulging. So she would just wing it and see if Shaw buys any of her excuses.

Shaw came in, a gust of wind blowing behind her. She fixed Root with a glare, as if she was to blame for the terrible weather. She sat down sullenly, crossed her arms and glared some more, and Root thought it was adorable how Shaw seemed to think it still intimidated her.

"Speak," Shaw finally said, after she'd ordered some coffee and a piece of pumpkin pie. Root abstained, since her stomach was roiling with nerves.

"I've been busy. With numbers. And I know you can take care of yourself."

"Well, yeah, I can, but that's not really the point. I figured, since Samaritan is online, you'd just check in every once in a while so that I know you're not dead. Because if you died, Root, we'd be fucked. You're our connection to the Machine, and if...why are you looking at me like that?"

Root had a full blown grin on her face at this point. "You care about me. That's why you're--"

"No, I don't." Shaw scoffed, as if the very idea was ludicrous. "I care about the mission."

"Ah yes, the old 'I'm worried about the mission' excuse. I've heard it before, Sameen, and I knew then that you were lying, just like you are now." Root felt her disposition suddenly lighten, as if sunrays were touching her skin after a long winter. She'd thought up until now that Shaw didn't feel anything for her, but the way she was acting, like she had to know where Root was, to keep her safe, was definitely unexpected. And totally encouraging.

"You know what, Root? Go ahead and keep joking about this. Keep on pretending like you're life isn't in danger every single minute of the day. See if I care. I don't even know why I bothered." Shaw threw her napkin on the table and stood up.

"Because you care about me," Root sing-songed.

Later, Root would come to refer to this moment as Shaw-pocalypse 2014. This was the moment in which two years of flirting, eye rolls and lingering looks finally culminated, mixing together until Shaw just couldn't take it anymore.

Shaw whirled, fixing Root with a glare to end all glares. There was a fire in her eyes that made the anger from before seem like nothing. "Shut. Up."

Root stood up, a little intimidated now. But like hell she would show it. "Or what?"

That's when Shaw stomped into her personal space, and Root could smell her heady scent. Vanilla and honey, mixed with a little bit of sweat. Root closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them wide, wondering what Shaw was going to do. Was she going to kill her? Were these going to be Root's last moments on earth?

Although, considering how good it felt just to be this close to Shaw, Root didn't think she'd mind if they were. She opened her mouth to say something witty, like....damn, she couldn't think of anything. An IQ of 160 rendered totally useless, all because Shaw was tugging her closer now, grabbing onto the lapels of her pea coat. She shuddered, wondering if Shaw had a knife hidden under her clothes or something.

That's when Shaw kissed her, and Root almost fell backward, she was so surprised. She regained her balance quickly, and Shaw became everything that Root sensed. Her smell. Her tongue. Shaw's fingers in her hair. Her body pressed against Root's, tight and snug, like her body was made to fit into Root's, just like this. She moaned a couple of times, then wrapped her arms around Shaw, letting herself go.  All too soon and suddenly, Shaw stepped back, and Root had to bite back a groan from the loss of contact.

Then the Machine chirped in her ear. Two Samaritan agents were down the block. Root smirked, knowing a good shoot-out was just what Shaw would want right about now, even though she herself wanted to get back to the kissing.

"Samaritan," she mumbled, pulling out her purse. She handed a gun to Shaw, who gave her a smile. She then told all the patrons to leave, and surprisingly, they left without much fuss.

Fifteen minutes later, the restaurant was totally trashed, and Root and Shaw walked out, the adrenaline pumping in their veins.

"That was fun," Shaw commented.

"Wasn't it?" Root nudged Shaw's shoulder lightly, who immediately nudged her back a lot harder.

"I--also kind of liked the kissing, too, so if you wanted to do that again sometime..." Shaw kicked her foot against the pavement almost sheepishly, and it took a substantial portion of Root's willpower not to jump her right then.

"Sure. How's now for you?"

The words were barely out of her mouth before Shaw's lips were on hers, claiming them with aplomb. She backed Root against the brick wall next to the alley, and put her hands on either side of her head. Her tongue slipped into Root's mouth, and Root could taste a hint of pumpkin. This wasn't how Root had envisioned the end of the evening would go, but she wasn't complaining. They stayed like that, just kissing, for a few minutes, getting a feel for each other, and it was the most peaceful Root had felt in a long time.

Shaw pulled back, rested her head against Root's shoulder. "I'm not promising anything--like an iron-clad commitment..." the shorter woman said. "But I--I do care about you," she said, looking up into Root's eyes.

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
